


Triad

by DarchangelSkye



Category: Canadian Idol RPF, Canadian Music RPF, Music RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: M/M, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, Present Tense, Threesome - M/M/M, Wordcount: 500-1.000, Written in 2008
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-08
Updated: 2010-08-08
Packaged: 2017-10-11 00:20:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/106155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarchangelSkye/pseuds/DarchangelSkye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Center of the universe, baby," he'll point out...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Triad

It's not like Drew always _intends_ to spend the night crashed out in Mookie and Earl's room. But after an hour or so of tossing and turning by himself, lonely without a roomate to talk to, he gets restless and has to wander. With his iPod or a book tucked in his waistband, he'll slowly get up on light feet and walk until he's reached- what seems to be- two of the people left in this house who actually _get_ him.

It amazes him how they run on almost no sleep. Sometimes they'll be watching a movie, one's head snuggled in the other's lap (and fingers so subtly stroking the inside of a thigh, at that), sometimes the guitars are out and they're strumming away (Earl making a show of serenading them with a Jack Johnson song? Priceless.), and sometimes they're already making out, a tangle of long limbs and wandering hands that's easy to get lost in watching.

In any case, the first thing Drew notices is the dusky smell that tickles his nose.

He'll flop himself on the end of the mattress, and soon his presence will be greeted with a cheer and tackle-hug that presses him even further into the bed but always makes him laugh in love. Mookie might snag an earbud from the iPod and sing along to whatever's playing in his raspy voice (making Drew mentally note to copy over more Marvin Gaye), lost in his little world of music. If Earl's snuck anything from the kitchen during his munchie runs he'll proffer it to Drew who gladly accepts, whether it's crackers or strawberries.

He's not sure what he likes better about licking crumbs from Earl's fingers, the contact high or the glow of amazement in the young mens' eyes.

Mookie likes to nuzzle his head on the older man's chest, pet everywhere he can, and tease Drew about what conditioner he uses. "It's like sleeping with a goddamn tiger!" he croaks, and Drew laughs and adds growls of encouragement as the teen keeps nuzzling.

Earl will sometimes gossip about something he's seen downtown, or in the audience, or even backstage, as if he's oblivious to the fact two half-naked people are grinding right in front of him. But Drew _knows_ he's aware, even if he's distracted himself by Mookie whispering flattering innuendos in time with their thrusting hips.

Earl's a very huggy person, if the joy he takes in wrapping himself around his friends is any indication. Drew rests his head on the young man's shoulder, a move that's always appreciated as Earl will tell him just how important he is to their group. "Center of the universe, baby," he'll point out, and maybe it's not such a coincidence his hand is usually lingering below Drew's waist when he says that.

It's not just about the sex, although taking each other every which way they can is pretty damn fun. It's about the buzz Drew feels in his mind when Earl's tongue slides inside his mouth. It's about Mookie's arms encircling him from behind, hands resting possessively on his heart. It's about tracing every scar and tattoo and hearing the stories behind them. It's about kiss-crushed lips, tousled hair. It's about closeness and shining eyes and breath hitching in chests. It's about the dizziness making their heads spin and hearts race right before cries of pleasure tear from them and they don't even try muffling the noise. It's about limbs losing all stiffness and lying in a rubbery pile afterwards, hands on arms or thighs so they're still all connected. It's about the afterglow of sweat-soaked skin, jagged breathing, and moans of release.

Soon as one of them has the energy to get up, he'll head to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face and bring back glasses for the others, and they'll all cool off and make jokes or compliments on how someone moved or what they said. (And the compliments always set off the proverbial butterflies in the pit of Drew's stomach, even if he can't explain why.)

Mookie usually tires out first, using someone's shoulder for a pillow and sweetly kissing his companions good night. It isn't long before they're huddled together again in the dimmed lights, hands and arms linked comfortably now instead of sensually. Drew hums in quiet satisfaction and lets himself drift away to Mookie's steady breathing and Earl's muffled snores.

It's not like he _intends_ it- at least, that's what his mind tries to believe.


End file.
